Winchester University
by Deanna Burton
Summary: AU: Post season 4. Sam and Dean are trying to find the one who will save them all. Written by Staceycj and Lizzy.
1. Chapter 1

Dean sat atop the desk that was shrouded in papers and file folders. Looking intently at the young man in front of him, he simply starred at him, green eyes penetrating down to the younger man's soul. The younger man squirmed in his seat a little and averted his eyes from Dean's penetrating gaze.

"That right there will get you killed."

"What?" The boy sitting slouched in front of Dean asked.

"Not being able to look what scares you in the eye. That will get you killed."

"I'm sorry…"

"There isn't time for you to be sorry. There is only time for action, there is only a second between your death and your life." Dean quieted and starred at the boy again. This time the younger man held his gaze, tried to keep it, fought to keep it, and he did, but the gaze that was returned to Dean was timid and wavering.

"Why are you here?"

"What?" he asked.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here because I want to help people."

"Become a social worker."

"I want to save people's lives."

"Become a doctor."

"I want this."

"Why do you want this life? What about this life seems so glamorous to you? The slogging through slop? The crawling through sewers? Having your hands tied above your head until you just wish someone would cut them off? Why this life?"

"I…"

"Why?"

"I…I.."

"Don't stutter. Answer me boy."

"Because I can't stand to know that there are things out there in the dark that kill people and do nothing. I know they are out there. They killed my sister. I need to be able to do something about it."

"So you just want simple revenge is that it?" Dean asked and leaned forward, purposefully using his height and bulk as a way of intimidating the younger thinner man, and he did exactly what he expected him to, he sat back in the seat.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" Dean asked low in his throat. "You guess that's the reason you want to risk your life for this job?" Dean stood up and began to slowly pace the room. "I get revenge. My mom died because of this stuff, but there has to be more or you won't survive. Revenge is all good but that won't keep your ass from becoming fertilizer."

"I can't let other people die like that." The boy was shaking.

"I don't know kid. I don't know if you have the stones for this job. I'll consider it. Get out. I'll let you know." The boy didn't move and Dean said a little louder with more command in his voice. "Do you need a hearing test? I said get out." The boy jumped up and hurried out of the door, Sam entered just as the boy was leaving.

"Scare another one?"

"He's not for this life."

"How did you determine that one? Show him your scars and he puked? Or…."

"He's just not ready for this life Sam."

"You've been saying that a lot lately to a lot of people Dean."

"It's not like we get paid by the person."

"We need people."

"We don't need meat."

"Dean…."

"Sam. Just go. I don't want to have this conversation with you right now. If you want to do this job you most certainly can." Sam stiffened.

"I just wanted to let you know that I think Kayla is ready for field training."

"Okay whatever. The girl still flinches whenever she holds a gun. She shouldn't be here."

"She has potential Dean." Sam said clenching his fists.

"Just because she is one of the kids that yellow eyes visited doesn't mean…"

"She will not end up like me Dean!" Sam shouted. "Will not. We will not let her become this." He said indicating his shaking form. "No one will ever end up like this again. She is ready for her field training." Sam said and turned from his brother.

Almost an hour ago Sam had left the main building headed for the miles of trails that snaked through the woods surrounding the compound. He'd needed to clear his head and this was the best way he'd found to do it. Running wasn't elegant or cerebral but it got the job done. Just him and the trail. Pushing himself to that place where feeling the demands on his body, his heart pounding, his lungs burning, his muscles staining, was all he could focus on. The repetitive slap as his feet pounding the ground, lulling him into a numbness where he couldn't think beyond his next step; couldn't think of anything outside his own body.

His iPod droned in his ears and with nothing else to focus on he found himself listening to the lyrics of the song.

_Now the dark begins to rise  
Save your breath, it's far from over  
Leave the lost and dead behind  
Now's your chance to run for cover _

It was with a certain sense of irony that a smile ghosted crossed Sam's panting lips. He was usually out here for one of two reasons. Today it was because of what had happened with his brother in Dean's office. They seemed to be butting heads a lot lately.

But more often than not if he was running it was because he was trying to outdistance his weaknesses. Trying to outrun the addiction that had nearly killed him, and consequently every other human on the planet. Most days he could live with himself and the guilt he carried because he knew what a tight leash he now kept himself on. However, there were days when the scorching need that was a constant part of him would flare up white hot and burn away at his ability to control it. On those days he ran like the armies of hell were after him; because, quite literally, they were.

_I will not bow  
I will not break  
I will shut the world away  
I will not fall  
I will not fade  
I will take your breath away_

As he crested the hill the tree line broke to his right, and he looked down into the valley. The meadow below rolled every so gently towards a small stream. The breeze softly dancing across the long grasses swirling them in mesmerizing waving patterns. It looked peaceful and beautiful, and Sam avoided the place like the plague because cutting through the middle of it was a set of iron railroad tracks.

Sam quickened his pace, taking himself around the bend in the path and away from the sight of those dark lines scaring across an otherwise idyllic setting. Actually seeing the tracks meant he was way to close to them for comfort. After almost four years at the compound seeing the lines still effected him. Without fail, the muscles across his chest snapped tight, especially the one thundering his blood though his veins. He ran a couple hundred more yards down the path before the tension finally started to ease.

He and Dean had first arrived on a miserably rainy day in November of 2011. Well, that wasn't quite true. The first time they'd been here was back in 2007, but that had been for a different matter. They'd been taking care of some family business; stopping yellow eyes. Sam felt his lower back muscles cramp at the thought. They'd been here in 2007, but 2011 was when they'd moved into the compound. It was also the last time Sam had been across the repaired iron lines of Colt's giant devils trap.

This self imposed exile from the rest of the world was one of the ways he tried to control this thing that was inside of him. The demons were out there on the other side of those rail lines. That meant that the demon blood was also out there. As long as the demons were out there and Sam was in here it removed the temptation. That's not to say it removed the urge, but at least he didn't feel like he was swimming in it.

Hell, lets be honest he wasn't swimming in it. It was more like drowning. The years he'd spent on the outside after the addiction had started were some of the most miserable of his life, and that was saying something; considering he'd had a pretty miserable life.

It had seemed like an infinite army of evil. Some of them made no pretense about tempting him. They delighted in cutting themselves just so he could see their blood flow. Teasing him to take just a little taste. Even the ones who weren't actively taunting him were still walking, talking temptations. Out there it had been all about his will power. He either kept clean or broke based on nothing more than his force of will.

Sure Dean had tried to help. His brother had watched over him as best he could, but Sam couldn't shake the family mantra that had been drilled into him since he was old enough to know what the real family business was. As a Winchesters you did what you had to do, and you didn't whine about it. He knew he was responsible for his own actions, but it was one huge weight to carry when it seemed that every day he was pushed to do the thing that he'd sworn never to do again.

That's why moving here, at the time, had felt like a sanctuary for him.

_And I'll survive; paranoid  
I have lost the will to change  
And I'm not proud, cold-blooded fate  
I will shut the world away _

It had been a lot to get used to when they'd first come here. Sam's whole life had pretty much been lived on the road. Never staying anyplace for long. Never having roots, or a place that felt like home. His years at Stanford had been the closest thing he'd known to a normal life.

He'd thought that having this place, an honest to god home, would be everything he wanted. Most days it was. He'd developed routines at the school; classes, training, research. He tried to say busy and focused. Totally believing what they said about idle hands. He needed the purpose that he found here because he couldn't be out there on the front lines fighting anymore. He couldn't take the chance that he'd slip.

Even with the margin of normalcy and safety he'd found here Sam never completely relaxed. Not ever! His control had to be absolute, as strong as the iron lines that surrounded the compound. One moment of weakness could hurl him back down that dark road. Make him into something, someone, he couldn't survive being again. The demons had tried. Given it their best shot. After he'd killed Lilith they'd teased and tempted him with their blood every chance they got, until he thought he'd go insane.

Once he'd come here the torment hadn't stopped, it had only changed. He'd been so long without the blood that part of him felt like a dried up sponge. If a demon came within a few miles of the outside of the barrier Sam could feel their presence. It wasn't like being psychic, he couldn't read their thoughts. He could just sense they were there. Like that repulsive part of him was stretching out, evil seeking evil.

The blinding headaches, gut twisting nausea, and sapping weakness that was part of his demon radar was something he'd learned to live with. He wasn't some guilt-ridden masochist who thought this was penance for the things he'd done. It was just the hand he'd been dealt and he'd play it the only way he knew how, with his head high, a stiff upper lip, and most importantly, always on guard.

Sam had just passed where two of the trails crossed when that unexplainable 6th sense that kept most hunters alive cause the hair to rise on the back of his neck. He'd been lost in thought, not focusing on what was around him, but his razor sharp instinct had still picked up on something. Something was behind him and it was closing the distance fast.

His brain ticked off the possible list of what could be behind him. Demon was out, he wasn't suffering any of his usual side effects. The sun was still up so it wasn't a werewolf, and probably not a wendigo or vampire. Ghosts didn't make noise then they moved, and all the bodies in the old cowboy cemetery had been salted-n-burned for good measure so it probably wasn't a draugr. Bipedal gate ruled out chupacabras and gulons. Could be a shape-shifter or a zombie.

Sam readied his body for the fight. Waiting until whatever it was came just a little closer. It was fast, but not super-human. Fast usually equaled lite and that probably meant it was smaller than him. Which was a good thing considering this was going to be hand-to-hand combat, as Sam hadn't thought to arm himself when he'd left on this run.

He waited till the last moment and then in one smooth lightening fast move he ducked and spun around. Instinctively he grabbed the arm he saw reaching for him, and using momentum and surprise he pulled the person past him. Still holding the arm, Sam twisted it behind his opponents back as he kicked out with his right leg, tripping him. It wasn't until Sam had his knee driven in to the smaller mans back, pinning him to the ground, that he realized who it was.

"Damn it Justin! Are you trying to get yourself killed? I could have snapped your fool neck, or had a knife and gutted you before you even knew what I was doing. Never run up on another hunter like that. Do you hear me."

Sam waited for the young man to say something but all he did was nod his head. It was then that Sam realized he'd knocked the air out of the kid and was still pinning him to the ground hard enough that he couldn't draw breath.

Sam quickly rose to his feet and watched as Justin rolled over, coughing and trying to catch his breath. The kid was new. He'd only been at the school for about 3 months, so Sam felt a little bad for roughing him up. But this was a hard life and sometimes feeling the lesson stuck with the kids more then just learning about the lesson.

Reaching out his hand, Sam helped him to his feet. "What did you want?"

"Dean sent me to find you. Said they needed you back at the school for something?"

"Did he say what?"

"No. Just that I should find you and tell you to 'get your ass back to the school'." Justin put his hands up and took a half step back. "Hey man, his words not mine."

Sam rolled his shoulders and shot Justin an annoyed look, just on principle. He moved past the student and headed back down the trail he just crossed over, heading back to the school.


	2. Home

"What?" Sam asked entering Dean's pseudo office that looked like a paper factory exploded. He rested his shoulder against the door frame and looked at his brother who was throwing paper around looking for something.

"I have to go to Bobby's." He said matter of factly. Sam felt his nerves begin to vibrate. Even though he and Dean didn't get along like they once did, hell sometimes, they got along about as well as two strangers, he still had a hard time with Dean leaving him alone. No matter what, it seemed as if Dean was going to be his rock, the only reason that he didn't fall over the edge, fall into that swimming pool of evil that seemed to threaten to engulf him all of the time.

"Why?"

"Kid. Kid that's too scared to come here, but wants to know what this is all about."

"So you're playing career counselor now?" Sam asked crossing his arms. Dean looked over to him eyes ablaze with frustration.

"You wanted more kids to come here. I'm getting more kids. I won't even scare this one, won't take off my shirt." He said and stood up slowly, and Sam noticed the wince. The skin that was singed, wrinkled, puckered, pocked, and leathery was still too tight. Dean once described it as putting on a suit that was half a size too small. It was still hard for Sam to see, the ones on his neck only hinted at the damage under the shirt. Lucifer had left his calling card etched into Dean's chest. Etched signs of devil worship into the flesh of the man who was the savior of the world. It was Lucifer's final screw you to the man who had started and ended the apocalypse.

Dean had only been with one woman since he was healed enough. The night had been cut short, her hands ran over the flesh and that felt different, the skin that Dean could no longer feel, and her hand curled up and she moved away from his brother. Dean hadn't exactly shared when that happened. He just started being more careful about his body, and he didn't approach women any more. His old charm, self confidence, his charisma had all taken a hit, and he was more angry because of it. And sometimes that anger bubbled and lashed out. Sam forgot sometimes that Dean had feelings too, forgot that his brother had new weaknesses, that he had any weaknesses at all. That jab he had made earlier, must have hurt Dean more than he realized.

"You're right. You're right." Sam sighed and watched his brother wade through the papers towards the door. "How long will you be gone?" he asked. Dean made an effort to look into his brother's eyes. Since they moved her, Dean had left the compound very infrequently, but when he did Sam got antsy, looked at him like he wanted to say things, but couldn't, wanted to ask him something, but would change his mind. Dean wondered, even if only for a minute, if Sam was worried that without him there that he would fall apart, that he would succumb to the darkness that resided within his soul.

"You okay Sam?" Dean asked and Sam nodded.

"Course. Fine."

"If you don't want me to go, I won't. I can call Bobby."

"You don't have to baby sit me. I'm not a child."

"Sam…"

"Just go. Get the new kid. This world needs all of the heroes it can get." Dean sighed and straightened up.

"You hearing anything?"

"What?"

"Your link to the outside. Are they worrying you?" Dean hardly ever spoke directly about the link that Sam shared with the demons, hardly mentioned anything about demons unless it was ways to kill them.

Sam rubbed a hand up and down his arm. "No. No. Not really."

"Sam?" Dean questioned eyebrows raised.

"No. Really. I'm fine."

"Okay." Dean said with a sigh. He started out of his office and Sam followed. "Now, Randy needs to be watched. Something is up with that boy, he's been off his game. Sarah's parents are getting divorced and they keep calling her and telling her stuff and it's throwing her off her game. She's on probation. She needs to focus. Demon killed her sister, that's what her parents are getting a divorce over. Sure makes no sense to me but, then again, I don't know what normal people are like." Dean continued to ramble on and on about students and what needed to be tended to, who needed to be watched, and who needed more homework, and Sam listened amazed and intrigued by how good his brother was with younger people.

Sam stood looking out the window, watching the Impala kick up a tail of dust as Dean shrank into an ever smaller dot, before disappearing altogether. He couldn't help but smile when thinking about Dean and his beloved Impala. If there was a stronger emotion than love Sam was pretty sure that's what Dean felt for that car.

More times than he could count since they'd moved to the school, Sam had watched Dean stop as he walked past a window just to gaze out at the car as it sat idly by, collecting a fine layer of sandy dust. The look on his older brothers face full of longing for a home that had suddenly lost it's purpose.

Truth be told, Sam missed the car too. All his childhood memories were in some way tied up with that growling black machine. People talked about the feelings of going home; Sam got that every time he slid into the passenger seat of the Impala. But more than the memories he missed it because of the closeness it gave him to Dean. The life they'd lived, the hours they'd spent together, meant they knew more about each other than anyone else ever would.

They'd lived in each other's hip pockets for so long that moving into the school had been a huge change. Suddenly each brother had found himself with his own space. A place that was uniquely theirs, to do with as they wished.

The school was housed in an old hospital built in the 1940's. Aside from a few small outbuildings, most of which were in various states of disrepair, the school was isolated in the middle of the desolate Wyoming landscape; miles from anything and anyone. With no neighbors around to complain about gunfire or occasional small explosions during weapons training, it was the perfect harsh setting for training hunters.

The school had been started by Drew Lowry. He and his older sister, Olivia, had been raised in a family of hunters. His parents had been killed on a hunt when he was 22. Then, a few year back, his sister had been killed when Lilith had raised the witnesses. Initially he'd started out by training the kids of people that he hadn't been able to save. He never took on anyone younger than 16, and he never recruited anyone. They had to come to him.

After the apocalypse there were so many orphaned hunters' kids that had come to Drew he couldn't take them all on and keep up the nomadic life of a hunter. There was also no way they could live with him in his one bedroom bachelor pad. So, he'd found this remote hospital and with the help of his students and some fellow hunter friends he'd repaired and remodeled the building. It was functional, but the staff often joked that the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning it wasn't. Still, they made due.

The basement housed the kitchen, the cafeteria, utility rooms, and the entrance to the schools large demon-proof panic room. The first floor housed the main office for the school, classrooms, and some staff offices. The other staff offices were on the second floor along with the rest of the classrooms. The third floor was divided, with the guys dorm on one end and the girls dorm at the other. The fourth floor had apartments for the staff as well as a large conference room. Most of the staff lived in these apartments, but a few had moved into the outbuildings that surrounded the main school building.

Sam remembered how Dean had started to chafe under the confines of living under the same roof as everyone else. As much as Dean had always longed for a stable home, moving into the school had been to much to fast. Practically every other Friday Dean would get into the Impala after his last class and take off for parts unknown, just having to get away, and return last Sunday night. Sam knew that it probably would have been every weekend if Dean wouldn't have felt that he needed to stick around to watch over him.

Then about five months after they'd arrived Sam's demon-radar thing had happened for the first time. It had happened on a Sunday afternoon; and while it had scared Sam and the rest of the staff that were there who took care of him, it freaked Dean out badly enough that he'd stopped leaving over the weekends.

Sam looked down on the small caretakers cottage that he'd spent countless hours working on. He'd gutted the place and put it back together practically single handedly. He'd rewired the electrical, redone the pluming, put up and torn down walls, rehung sheetrock, put down new floors, and a hundred other things. He'd done all of it to turn the run-down cottage into the first real home Dean had known since he'd been four years old. It had been Sam's way of saying thank you for the millions of things Dean had given to him. Sam couldn't ever really hope to repay his big brother, but the house was at least something he could do.

If he lived to be an old man Sam knew he'd never forget the look on Dean's face when he'd handed him the keys. Sam had finished up the last touches that morning. He'd been sitting on one of the sawhorses taking a moment to admire his work, wondering how he was going to get Dean out to the house. But his brother had saved him the trouble and walked up to join him.

"Hey Sammy," he'd said as he came to lean against the sawhorse next to Sam and admire the house. "It looks good. What do you have left to do?"

"Nothing." Sam couldn't help his satisfied smile.

"Seriously man. You'd been at this for months now but the place really does look great." The pride in Dean's voice was unmistakable, and it almost covered the small note of envy he couldn't disguise.

Sam had been proud of the work he'd done, but hearing Dean say that stuff had been the icing on the cake. Dean had helped him with a few projects, but for the most part had stayed away from the project. Sam turned to him holding up the keys.

"Go take a look," he'd said by way of invitation, as he dropped the keys into Dean's hand.

Dean crossed the yard and climbed the three stairs to the porch. He unlocked the front door and pushed it wide before turning to toss the keys back to Sam. But Sam simply sat there and shook his head, his hands not moving from where they rested at his sides.

"It's yours Dean."

"Come on man, stop playing around. Take the keys back." Sam could read so much in Dean's tone. His brother didn't believe in something for nothing. So as Sam offered up one of his brother's deepest wishes to him Dean was scared to let himself believe it was possible. Sam understood Dean's disbelief. It wasn't everyday someone gave you a house. But typical Dean, he'd rather make you think it didn't matter to him. That way when whatever it was got taken from him, because it always seemed to get taken from him, he could claim that it really didn't mean much to him in the first place.

It was bullshit but Sam understood why he did it.

Sam now stood at the base of the stairs looking up at his brother. He waved back towards the school. "I know that we're here because of me. Because you're trying to do what's best for me, like you always do. But I know that living in that apartment is driving you nuts. To many people, to little privacy. I want you to have the house. I need you to have it, because it's the only way I can even start to think about repaying you for everything you'd done for me my whole life. So, trash it, live in it, hell burn it to the ground. The house is yours Dean."


End file.
